


burn my lungs and curse my eyes

by incogneat_oh



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Batdad, Batfamily, Gen, Humour, Slice of Life, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23310643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incogneat_oh/pseuds/incogneat_oh
Summary: “TimothyJimothyJackson Drake-Wayne!”Quick as a shot and twice as guilty, Tim and Jason swivel as one to face Dick, where he stands in the balcony doorway.Tim’s mouth has fallen open; the cigarette is stuck to the corner of his lip and he fumbles for it a little unsteadily.--
Comments: 41
Kudos: 760





	burn my lungs and curse my eyes

—-

It’s dark and the air is crisp. In the city proper, it smells of steel and smoke and smog; even uptown there’s the faint smell of people. Rot and sewage. Out here though, it smells mostly like nothing. 

Jason inhales deep through his nose, leans hard against the balcony railing. The corner of his mouth ticks upward in a smile. Not _nothing_ , technically. He can still smell, faintly, traces of Alfred’s pine-and-lemon cleaner where it lingers on his hands, the collar of his shirt. 

He’d called it ‘Spring cleaning’, and when they’d unwisely argued that it was definitely the wrong time of year for it, Alfred’s lips had pressed so tightly together they’d disappeared; truly a dangerous sign. Alfred had directed them to the laundry room cupboard, clearing his throat to dole out instructions as well as cleaning supplies. But Big Bird had made off with a duster immediately, cackling, making a break for the staircase chandelier. Alfred had hurried after him, shouting “Master _Richard!_ ”, fruitlessly. Dickie had probably learned the selective hearing schtick from the big man.

Jason, wanting no part of Dick’s nonsense, had grabbed a pair of gardening gloves and headed straight outside to pull up some of the more obstructive weeds from Alfred’s vegetable garden. After that had been polishing the upstairs hallway floor, dusting the attic, wiping down surfaces in all common areas, changing six lightbulbs in various parts of the house, and helping clean the broken glass in the entryway. It was kind of nice to be sore and tired for an entirely nonviolent reason, for a change. (Smacking Dick upside the head didn’t _really_ count.)

He’s lost in thought, eyes on the stars not blanketed by clouds. Absently, habitually pulling out his packet of smokes and fumbling for the lighter he’s forever putting in the wrong pocket. He’s just taken the first drag when he hears a knock behind him.

When he turns, Tim stands in the half-open doorway. His smile has an air of sheepishness to it, but too much teeth. He holds up Jason’s jacket in wordless offering.

Jason shuffles along the railing, making space for Tim beside him while he shrugs on the jacket. He turns back to the night sky; he likes nights like this. He can feel Tim’s gaze, unwavering, intense, on the side of his face. He tilts his head towards Tim, quirking an eyebrow. For all Dick, and hell, half the Justice League, like to make jokes about Bruce’s stare… he’s got nothing on Tim. 

When Jason was younger, after his mom had passed but before he’d known Bruce, he’d encountered a dog. Half-starved, mangy fur matted with filth, lean and mean and showing teeth. It had come face-to-face with Jason over the remains of someone’s dinner in a trash can, had stared him down with its pale, wild eyes. It had snatched the food and bolted, and Jason, half-starved himself, had just watched it happen.

Tim’s stare is kind of like that. 

Sometimes, he thinks, Tim is the hungriest person he’s ever met. For what, it’s kind of hard to say. It depends on the day, the minute. Attention, recognition, a fight, adventure, a challenge. Probably pizza, at least some of the time.

He half-smiles at the kid, murmurs “Oh I’m sorry, where are my manners?” and offers his cigarette. 

Tim doesn’t break eye contact, but his eyes do narrow slightly. Amusement, exasperation. Recognition of the challenge. But he takes the smoke, casual as anything. Puts it to his constantly pink-bitten lips. They’re curling into a smile around the filter, and he starts to inhale, preparing to speak, and—

“Timothy _Jimothy_ Jackson Drake-Wayne!”

Quick as a shot and twice as guilty, Tim and Jason swivel as one to face Dick, where he stands in the balcony doorway.

He looks furious, agitated. His hair, sticking up in all directions, still has a couple cobwebs in it. It really adds to the unpredictable wildness of his expression.

Tim’s mouth has fallen open; the cigarette is stuck to the corner of his lip and he fumbles for it a little unsteadily.

“Hi Dickie-bird,” says Jason, brightly, while Tim goes with “It wasn’t—”

“ _Smoking_? Seriously? You’re _that_ desperate to pick up another self-destructive habit-? Drinking 2 gallons of coffee a day, getting—getting 45 minutes of sleep a night, going out with no backup, hell, picking fights with Ra’s _Al-Goddamn-Ghul_ , none of that—none of that is enough for you, Tim?”

Tim had started off looking a little guilty, shamefaced, but that’s morphed into anger now. “ _Dick_ ,” he starts, quietly, dangerously. 

But Dick doesn’t even notice, has deigned to finally acknowledge Jason; “And _you!_ It’s bad enough you ruin your own life, but you’re happy enough to be a bad influence on your younger brothers? Honestly, I—” and Dick stops. Eyes bugging out just a little. “Did you just _light a cigarette_ while I was talking?!”

Jason exhales a lungful of smoke, not _exactly_ at Dick, but not really away from him either. He says, blandly, “Oopsie. Sorry, Mother Grayson.”

“So I’m _Mother Grayson_ now? Jesus Christ, Jay—” 

And Jason should probably feel bad about the guilty little thrill he gets, knowing he can still turn saintly Dick into this snarling, ugly-tempered version of himself so easily. But he doesn’t. So he says, peaceably, “Apparently,” and takes another slow drag. “ _Mother Grayson_.” He feels, rather than hears, Tim’s tiny laugh beside him.

“Oh, well, that’s _fine_ ,” says Dick. He storms forward onto the balcony, snatches the first cigarette from Tim. It’s practically burned down to the filter now. And Dick sticks it, furiously, in his mouth before he gets in Jason’s face and says, “Okay? Why don’t we _all_ just smoke together? Is that what you want? Why don’t we call _Damian_ up here, and you know, Alfred too. It can be a family activity.” He exhales a bit of smoke, sputtering slightly. “We all happy now?”

“Dick,” says Jason, exasperated now. This is getting less fun by the second. “That’s not—”

“No it’s _fine_ , Jay, this is apparently just how we’re doing things now,” and he’s putting the cigarette to his mouth again, when Jason sees movement from the corner of his eye. Shit.

“ _Dick!_ ” thunders Bruce, and _Christ_ , Jason will need to pick another goddamn balcony next time for his occasional smokes. “Are you _smoking_ a _cigarette_?”

Dick looks a little pale and queasy, but it’s unclear to Jason whether that’s the nicotine or the shouting from Bruce. “Bruce, it’s not—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Dick,” says Bruce, joining them on the balcony, and it’s _worse_ , geez, it’s so much worse. Because he’s moving from immediate, shocked anger into his disappointed Dad voice. Dick’s fatal weakness. “I can’t believe you’d do something like this. I’m just grateful Tim and Damian aren’t here to follow your example-” 

Bug-eyed, Dick swivels rapidly. But Tim has vanished, the crafty little asshole. Must’ve been when Dick started shouting at him. And Jason has to swallow down on a loud laugh, especially when Bruce obliviously continues;

“Now Jason, I know you struggle with addiction-” (and here, Jason nods sadly, eyes artfully downcast until Bruce turns back to Dickie) “-but I’m truly horrified that you would try and _pick up_ such an unhealthy habit, out of nowhere. We should be fostering an environment here to help support Jason when he’s ready to try and quit smoking, instead of-”

“I wasn’t—” Dick starts, indignantly, but Bruce just raises his voice;

“- _actively_ trying to sabotage the efforts of someone you’re supposed to care about, Dick. I really expected better of you. I know you pride yourself on being a good older brother, a good example…”

And over Bruce’s shoulder, in the dark of the Manor, Jason can make out Tim standing there. He sees the moment Dick spots him too, because his shoulders straighten, mouth falling open. And Jason sees, too, the sense of defeated betrayal in Dick’s eyes when he realises Tim is holding up both middle fingers in Dick’s direction, tongue poked out between his bared teeth. 

“Dad,” Dick says, weakly, not even interrupting the lecture. It’s too late. Tim’s gone anyway, having made his perfect escape.

And Jason has to turn away, facing the Manor grounds again, to try and swallow his laughter.

Behind him, he can hear Bruce’s lecture continue on, invoking Alfred’s name, and Damian’s impressionability, before it circles back again to him and the _family support_ he needs, eventually moving into how Dick himself is very important to the family, and if he’s falling into some dark spiral he needs to own up to it and face it before his bad coping mechanisms are too ingrained.

Honestly, the lecture is a work of _art_. Bruce has probably been practicing it in the mirror for a good couple years now. Hell, if it had been targeted at a 15 year old Jason, it totally would’ve worked to dissuade him from smoking. He’s pretty close to immune to the disappointed Dad voice at this point, though.

Dick, still standing closely beside him, is silent and dejected. Bearing Bruce’s speech in a slightly injured silence.

Jason, along for the ride, just lights another cigarette and huffs out a laugh. 

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a new fic, not a super old one I'd forgotten to post to AO3. My sentiments from the tumblr post are still relevant:
> 
> The world is a disaster and a lot of you are probably in self-isolation/quarantine. I wrote a short fic in the hope that it can provide brief entertainment or distraction from the Everything that is happening. Is the fic dumb? Yes! So is literally everything else at the moment!!
> 
> Please, stay safe. Keep others safe. Wash your goddamn hands.


End file.
